Gaslight
by tennreasonsvv
Summary: Human hearts beat so monotonously slow and human lungs are laughable balloons. There is only one human organ that Zim wants to learn more about: the brain. He read documents and databases until one document halts his research. The abrupt ending to psychology baffles the Irken and leaves him wondering why such a fascinating study could be abandoned. Hypotheticals aren't Science.
1. Chapter 1

Flashes of bright yellow hit the purple-walled interior of a once-darkened lab. Vials, tubes, and containers all stood erect, a symbol of hard work that was yet to be done. Large bulbous eyes glared through empty gelatinous prison cells. He had just recently terminated all his tests, decided that the subjects he had kept were no longer worthy of his genius experimentation. He had broken most of the husks of humans he had in possession and left them in a nearby wooded area. He felt a twinge of remorse as he watched a group of crazed wolves launch at his old subjects. His antennae lowered as his face scrunched uneasily. He remained at the neck of the woods, wondering just how long it would take for the animals to find the humans. His interest was diminished, and he returned to his cruiser to head back home.

Now, he was irritated. When he became bored teasing the captured germs in his base with the many vaccines he had created, he thought of using humans again. His claws gripped a table as he weighed the options. The humans could be such great subjects at times, but humans were often not of much value with the limited resources he had and the deficit when his experiments yielded useless data. However, his interest did pique at a certain human biological mystery. In fact, this particular interest plagued the humans almost as much as it plagued the young Irken.

Zim was interested in the human brain. He was both fascinated and appalled by how the human brain often worked as an Irken PAK. His PAK helped him regulate oxygen and turn it into semptum, the breathable air gas that was in Irk's atmosphere. Likewise, a human brain tells the lungs how to inflate and deflate and fill with air. PAKs held valuable information and deleted the rest; brains could perform the same action, but they were awful at it evidently. PAKs could be injured or removed and would ultimately kill its host; Zim was beginning to think the same of human brains.

He heard of Phineas Cage in his erratic late-night library perusing. He read with interest about the man's accident and how his injury didn't affect his functions or even kill him, but instead messed with his personality. He found an old human psychology textbook and spent the entire night committing a large part of it to memory. His antennae fell and rose dramatically as he read about the lobotomies of diseased brains and the prevalence of medication to heal these illnesses and avoid the mistakes of the past. It was all so much information that he ended up missing a day of Skool just to commit the large amounts of data he had gained to memory. His PAK had went into a stand-by-like mode, putting him into a temporary stasis. Zim hummed in incredulity when he later read that humans had to have experiments done in order to find out stasis would better serve a human's memory systems.

He considered capturing a human and doing experiments on them. However, the pure gory mental details that crossed his mind whenever he thought of such a thing only made his squeedly-spooch turn with upset. The number of germs humans had on their exterior bodies was easily redacted by a shower of chemical solutions, and that was just so that with the minimal handling the invader had to do, he wouldn't fall ill. On the other hand, carving into, opening up, and dissecting a human? Awful and preposterous! He would have to prep for months for a single surgery! He had not either the money or the patience for such a procedure. Not to mention the absurdity of dissecting another being; he wasn't a human and he wouldn't stoop to such a level. It wouldn't make him any different than the human Dib.

Instead he buried his antennae in books and articles from the Earth years prior until he found the last known psychological artifact known to human knowledge. This was a thing called the Brin Complex and it was a singular ten-paged document that was written by the father of anti-psychology. In ten pages he detailed a cure for the insatiable urge for human advancement, why some souls were just lost, and how the only true certainty we have about the brain is that it exists. On the last page was a photo-copy of a formula for the Vaccine 60199867. This was the last mention of the Earth science; psychology. Zim scoured archives, databases, and even government websites for any further mention of the term or the vaccine and what exactly it had done. He was mostly annoyed at how the document was entirely anonymous and the only handwriting he could connect the ending formula to was of a five-year-old human child named Jackie.

Vaccine 60199867, known as BrAP in human child vaccine requirement lists and medical documents, was known as the life-saving vaccine that brought the end of inhuman suffering. Zim growled as he leafed through the flowery language that barred him from the true secrets of this vaccine and its virus. They claimed the vaccine had cured almost all the humans and that it was eventually declared a human right for the healing effects of its power. There was not a single trace of how and why the vaccine worked.

The Irken could accurately remember the day he had spoken up in his human health class about psychology. Miss Bitters' stony temperament nearly twitched in surprise when he brought up the ancient subject. She barked at the little green kid and went on a wild tangent on how nosy children could be, how at one point she had wanted a child but like a polar bear would eventually eat their young to survive, she realized that humans would turn on their own young inevitably to further their own selfish desires. He remembered how Bitters had gone on to lecture Zim on how wrong he was, how he was nosy, annoying, and too loud, how he had no business asking such stupid questions, and that his parents ought to be ashamed of themselves for even mentioning the word to him. The invader was so taken aback by her extra vicious behavior that he ended up fainting by the deep sense of panic she set off through his system. He woke up in the nurses office with a sweltering melted ice-pack burning his skull and a detention for 'wasting teacher's time, interrupting class, and being a nuisance'. The following week, a counselor for each age group was sent to give a class wide announcement on how important it was that students just ask questions that were relevant to the lecture. He informed the students that if anyone had any question outside of the realm of skool relevance then they should address that outside as well or face academic counseling and a call home.

Zim was unfazed by the rudimentary threat of calling one's parental units or getting the stupid Earth Skool officials involved. In fact, this only furthered his drive to uncover the secret of human psychology. However, he was smart enough to never cross Miss Bitters' path on the subject and instead kept his studies at his base.

He looked outside the windows of his base, as the Earth sun peaked behind the horizontal line at the presumed end of his street. The overhead lights remained lit as the earth filled with natural luminence. Zim didn't glare as he watched this event, although he despised the star for its rather unenjoyable heat, the idea that a star could do such odd things to the atmosphere's appearance was undoubtingly fascinating. His ocular implants adjusted as the sky went through various shades of blue and evolved into the orange and red hues of a normal horrible earth morning. The stark contrast of crimson that broke the sky into a bloody war of pollution and air, deeply troubled the Irken who had many, many memories of spending his nights reading books about bright blue beautiful skies. It didn't trouble him in a disturbed way, but the fact left him very puzzled. How could a planet's own inhabitants cause such destruction to its own habitat?

"Good morning, GIR." Zim said the greeting as an announcement, his tone that of a drill sergeant than a caring being.

GIR, of course, does not recognize the edge in his master's words and instead smiles at the greeting, taking any sort of attention he can grab from his busy owner. "Morning, Master!" He waved a cloth paw at the invader.

Zim cocked an eyebrow at his SIR Unit. The Earth day hadn't even started yet and already he was dressed in his human dog disguise. Having GIR walk around the base with his costume on was normal, but not at first emergence. He normally would have Zim run around the base trying to find the suit as GIR would almost have a break down.

GIR gave a stitch-mouthed smile to Zim and pulled out some waffle mix with a jar of chunky peanut butter. "Breakfast is good for a growing boy." He said with an unusual voice. Zim recognized this as a voice-recording from the kids channel he allowed his robot to watch.

"Although you didn't say that in your voice, it still disturbs me." Zim said with a low growl to his voice. His glare softened as he walked over to the table his SIR was at and sat down in a chair across from him. GIR continued on making a batch of Zim's favorite waffles as the Irken opened up a news site on his PAKlet.

"Urgh. Stupid Earth humans. Why would they post an article about a reality television show before the emergence of quality information?" He grumbled as he swiped through the usual junk. The quizzes, cat videos, and social media posts all swam by as he came across an article that caught his attention.

'LOCAL FOUND DEAD, VACCINE INAFFECTIVE, SCIENTISTS ARE BAFFLED'

Zim clicked on the link and watched as the screen loaded to show a picture of a house that Zim recognized being located close to the skool. It was surrounded by flashing blue and red. An ambulance was parked on the curbside. He kept scrolling to read the article. He flashed by the niceties of a dead person and found what he was looking for.

'… confirmed that the young person was due for another round of Vaccine 60199867 later this year. Due to unforeseen events as a child, Less was set up for a continual dose of the normal one-shot vaccine every three years. The last time the deceased had received a dose was October of 2033. They were due for another injection this summer.

Deceased was found in their bedroom dead from-'

Zim read the report out loud as GIR continued to make the waffles in the background, a splash of batter landed on Zim's forehead and startled him. He yelped in surprise and fright. A chill ran down his spine as he wiped the batter away and peeled his attention from his PAKlet. He looked up and gasped, "GIR!"

There was batter all over the floor, on GIR's suit, and caked onto the refrigerator. It would take ages for Zim to clean all of that up.

"It's already five-forty-five. There's no possible way I'll be able to get a fraction of this mess up." He held a bunched-up fist to his head in repressed frustration.

The SIR unit looked guiltily up at his master with a small smile as he held up a stack of peanut butter waffles tentatively, "Waffles make it better."

"No, GIR. A mop and some cleaning solution will make this better." He swiped a waffle from the top of the stack and ate it as he spoke, "While I'm gone I command you to clean up this mess." He swallowed and began walking towards the fridge. He pulled out an energy drink and gulped it down in one go.

"Yes, my master." GIR bellowed as he saluted and his eyes flashed red. A couple of mechanical hands came out of his head, armed with cleaning supplies.

Zim smiled with satisfaction until GIR began brushing his mouth with a toilet bowl brush. He rolled his eyes and slapped another waffle into his mouth and proceeded to fix his lavender contacts onto his eyes. Just as he puffed up his bouffant wig, the clock struck six and he realized that if he didn't hurry and steal some textbooks from the library he would come to class unprepared. He forked the remainder of GIR's waffles into his gullet as he checked his PAKlet for the news article he was reading. The screen was back on the home page and had more quizzes and videos again. He perused the selection several times, looking for the article. His search came up dry on the fifth attempt. His eyes narrowed as he turned the PAKlet screen to black and stuffed it into his PAK.

He didn't have much time to ponder the disappearance of this article. He amounted it to a faulty deletion service, but still wondered what had happened and why he had seen it in the first place. All the literature on Vaccine 60199867 was government-owned and public service announcement knowledge. Zim gave a final warning to GIR about the waffle mess before he slammed the door behind himself and walked out into the empty streets.

He would almost go stiff in fright whenever he saw a human during this hour. He believed most of the humans who had mundane every day jobs and occupancies awoke later into the day, so the ones who appeared at the ass-crack of dawn were clearly government humans who were doing their own surveillance on him. His eyes furrowed when he noticed a man going out to unlock his car. The car lights flashed as he went into the vehicle and ignited the ignition. Zim warily slipped past the still-parked car and bolted down another street that led to the library.

He surveyed the area for activity before deploying his PAK-legs and crawling against the library walls to the second-floor window. He gently pushed the window open and slid in as his PAK-legs disappeared. He picked up a history textbook and some copies of science homework before slipping down to the second floor and grabbing a cup of coffee from the closed shop. He threw away the paper cup and investigated his internal clock. The time was nearing six-forty as he slipped out the front doors and into the darkness behind the building. He used a pen to scribble down the answers to a chemical formula question. He replaced the pen into his PAK and began trekking towards the skool building.

As he walked he took notice of the house he had seen in the picture earlier and saw that it was now vacant. The driveway was empty, the lights were off, and the door had an industrial-sized lock on it. He stared at it, before walking up the steps and into the building.

The hallways were buzzing with social activity as kids crowded around lockers gossiping, laughing, and screeching. Zim wormed his way through the crowds, making sure not to come in physical contact with any of his classmates. Normally this was a feat not easily done, but today he found himself making less sharp turns and ducks. The humans were too busy looking at their cellular devices to navigate the hallways, so Zim found himself sitting at his desk ten minutes before class was to start. He kept his head low, doodling in a notebook as his classmates poured into the room in small chunks and groups. The noise level steadily increased as he finished coloring in a pool of Dib-doodle's blood with a few quick swipes of his pencil. He looked up to find that the real Dib wasn't in class yet. He returned to his notebook and began drawing multiple exclamation points. The marks ranged in size, shade, and style. He dotted the last exclamation mark when Miss Bitters materialized into the room to begin the day's mindless lecture.

He quickly swiveled his head to the right to see if Dib had come to class yet and found he had not. He scanned the rest of the room for a sign of his stupid scythe but found he was simply not present. Zim smirked to himself as he reminisced on the last time the Dib was late to class. Miss Bitters made him write a ten-page, front and back essay on the value of teacher's time and how it did not relate to the amount of pay. She then failed him for the semester for a single misplaced comma. Dib ended up going to Saturday skool just to catch up with the rest of the class.

"And so will you if you don't stop talking to yourself, Zim." Miss Bitters barked as she stood over Zim's bent over figure. The Irken shot up so quickly that he had to hold his wig to keep it from flying off. The class erupted in brief laughter.

"Are you quite finished giving your monologue, Zim?" Miss Bitters asked sarcastically. She had whooshed back to her desk before Zim could stammer out a coherent response.

"I'm sure we're all awaiting the torture of Dib today, but I regret to inform you that this will not be occurring." She announced. The class all sunk in despair. Zim stood at attention and glared around the room, the thought of polar bears and blue skies in the back of his mind as he heard the children mourn their good time.

"Dib will also not be joining us for the remainder of the year. So you may all now give out your collective sigh of relief." Miss Bitters went on. Zim swiped at the air as he smelled onion bagels and unbrushed teeth float through the room as the class did as they were told. But the Dib? Gone? Transferred?

"In other news, I'm sure you have all heard of a death of a local already. Due to the 'circumstances'", she grits her teeth while speaking this, "they are sending in the counselor for a brief evaluation of each of you and further consult." She turned to face Zim. "If deemed necessary."

The door opened to allow a man in. He smiled at the children before ushering in two burly guards. Zim's jaw dropped slightly as he became uneasy.

"Hello Miss Bitters' class. Don't mind my two friends here, they won't be doing anything unless I need them to." His grin was laced with a darker meaning.

"We are here to administer a quick test of sorts to determine if any of you have had any exposure to certain," he bit his lip before speaking, "-abnormalities."

He started on the other end of the classroom, "Please hold out a palm when I pass by you. You will feel a small prick. A dot will appear on your hand, but don't be alarmed. If all the scanner sees is a singular dot, you are fine. I have no doubt that the skool has taken the proper precautions to assure each of you have kept up to date with any health protocol." He tattooed each student, looking and nodding as he continued down the line of desks. "You know, such as handwashing, medication, or vaccines."

Zim could hear a hint of malice in his voice as he said the last word. The invader's heart raced as he panicked, he slipped out of his chair and started towards the door when the two guards stepped in the doorway and grunted disapprovingly. The counselor turned to face the disguised Irken. Zim's lavender eyes widened in fright.

"Ah. Zim, our fresh friendly face. You aren't allowed to leave the classroom until you've been scanned, I'm afraid. Please take a seat."

Zim became hot and flustered, "I have to use the restroom! Zim needs relief!"

"I understand. We can do you now, then, if you need to go so ba-!" he was caught off by Zim who shouted in desperation.

"NO! Er I mean, No. That isn't necessary. I- already went. Before. I forgot." He puffed out before he escorted himself back to his seat.

The counselor continued down the line as Zim tried to assume a normal posture. Sweat slicked under his wig as he continued to doodle in his notebook. His unsteady hand turned an exclamation point into a question mark as the counselor headed back towards the front, nearing the alien's desk. Zim kept his head low, avoiding all eye contact as the counselor cleared his throat, "Come on now, son. Can't be afraid of a little blood when you've drawn yourself in a pool of it."

Zim's head snapped up in confusion, "Huh? This isn't-!"

"You need relief right. Zim? This little scanner here will give it to you. Just a second out of your time." The counselor leered.

"You are now wasting both his and my time, Zim. Take off your glove and give him your hand now or else it's a three-day detention, including a Saturday session." Miss Bitters threatened.

Zim trembled as he slowly slipped off his black elbow-length glove and exposed a three-fingered hand to the scanner. The counselor's lip turned up, "When they said you had a skin condition, they were not joking." He pressed the tattooing device to the inside of Zim's palm and released, allowing the tiny inked needle to enter Zim's skin. A tiny droplet of pink blood rose and the Irken swiped it away quickly. But the counselor stared in shock at another disturbance. Slowly the dot morphed into a longer shape.

Much to the counselor's horror, the singular dot now resembled a fully inflamed question mark on Zim's palm. His gaze shot to the question mark on his opened notebook at the same time the Irken's did. They locked eyes before Zim let out an ear-piercing scream and scrambled out of his seat and out the door as the guards jumped out of his way in fright of the new discovery.

He launched his body down the hallway as fast as he possibly could; his boots were nearly leaving skid marks when he turned the corner. Zim's heart pounded in his ribcage as he peeked around the edge of the wall. When he realized that no one had followed him, he readjusted his wig and breathed out heavily. He crept down the hall, cautiously looking behind for any sign of the burly guardsmen. The walls seemed to widen as Zim finally began to calm himself. The Irken continued to sneak about the interior of the building, occasionally adhering himself to the ceiling to avoid the threat of being discovered by any other alerted academic officials. Finally, he approached the large metal doors that encased all the town's children. Tentatively he reached for a handle; he twisted it and waited for a click that would signify his escape.

'Click!'

Zim flung the door open and climbed down the stairs two at a time until his feet hit the ground of the pavement. He flashed a satisfactory and prideful grin before marching his way down the sidewalk. He took long strides, making sure not too get so cocky that he would get caught not only skipping skool but running from whatever authorities those people were. He shuddered as he studied the stark question mark that engulfed his tiny palm. He secretly thanked Irk that the prick didn't seem capable of penetrating deep enough to receive any of his own blood. In the event the humans got a hold of his alien D.N.A. he would be in serious jeopardy. His anxiety levels continued to rise as he travelled down the well-known path to his base. After some time, he replaced his glove back onto his arm and wrung his hands uneasily. The rubber of his gloves made faint squeaking sounds as the fingers underneath became slick with sweat. His heart pounded, his breathing became labored, and his feet seemed to numb as he dragged them up his sidewalk. Before he could push open the doors his spooch twisted and knotted.

The doors sprung open and his two robotparents came to greet him. Instantly his blood pressure rose, and he teetered on edge. It was unusual for the roboparents to appear at the door. They hadn't done that in nearly a year. He stepped into his abode, his mouth beginning to tingle and go slack. Zim was entirely undone before he knew it. He fought the strange feelings and peeled off his contacts and wig as a headache ravaged his brain.

Everything went blank for a second of time and then he was suddenly on his back, staring up at the fluorescent lights of a human hospital. Zim's eyes focused only slightly better before he realized he was staring up into a bright, warm light. The ceiling was a powder blue, painted almost ethereality against the light. Zim hadn't realized that what he was staring at was the sun against a bright blue sky. He hadn't realized this, and yet he could still feel his body begin to loosen, his brow start to unfurrow, and his fists resolve to unclench. The calming effect of seeing a pristine summer day in a year long passed lulled the invader back into a dark stupor as his PAK fought desperately to keep him alert. Zim felt a small sting in his right temple before he dozed into an uneasy stasis.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing that Zim noticed when he opened his eyes was that he could not see. The stark blackness that met him caused his skin to tense and he immediately flew into a panic. He wasn't sure if he was being blindfolded or if his eyes were just incapable of seeing anything, but he was sure that he couldn't even make out a single outline around him. After some time, he gave into the fact that his eyes were useless and focused on using his antennae to pick up on vibrations. He grit his teeth and moved the antennas around stiffly, surveying the area around him. Nothing was within range of him to pick up on, no matter how much he focused. For brief moments he could pick up on a distant beeping sound, but found that was of no useful information to him. Nearly biting his serpentine tongue in half, he tried it again but while moving his arms. He found that his range of motion was affected greatly in his left arm; he could suddenly feel the faint jingle of a tiny piece of metal hitting a bigger piece.

Zim smirked. 'I'm ingenious.'

He slowly felt his left arm up until he felt a large wad of gauze and tape. He poked it, using his fingers to identify the substance; he felt a prick of alarm when he found that there was some dried Irken blood underneath the layers. Zim's breath hitched in his throat, but he continued to travel downwards until he found a wire attached to his wrist. He shrieked and tugged at it frantically until he earned a sting of pain.

The next thing the Irken felt was the sharp burn of seeing light after a long period of darkness. He yelped and covered his eyes, now very well aware that he could see.

His head snapped to his body. He realized that the wire that was attached to his wrist was an IV and the machine was pumping his blood out into a considerably large container. His ruby eyes widened with intense fright; he had been exposed. He shrieked twice and jumped off of the cot he was laid down on. The ripped out IV site was profusely bleeding; pink substance leaked steadily into his bare fists and onto the linoleum floor. He attempted to deploy his PAK-legs to make his escape easier, but he found that his PAK was not responding to any of his commands.

He clamped a hand around his wrist and looked around at his surroundings. There were multiple doors and none of them were labeled. All of the doors were at the foot of his prison, so he figured going down any of those paths was a bad idea. He looked to the right and found that two large doors were propped open and lead into a hallway. The hallway was considerably dark compared to the fluorescents that lit up his holding room.

Zim's head pulsed once with a wave of dizziness; he figured it was the blood loss. He turned back slightly and looked at the cot which had a small portable tray propped next to it. A small blue cloth was draped over the contents. Something in the boy's spooch told him not to investigate, but if he didn't try to stop the bleeding now he may pass out. He growled; the zippered teeth waved up in down in a low snarl that signified his annoyance. He ran over to the tray and unclothed it.

He was expecting some kind of sharp object: a rusted knife; instead, he was met with a clean roll of bandage, a travel packet of gauze, and cloth scissors.

"Hm! Was there not even the afterthought of the possibility of Zim knowing how to save his own life?" He grabbed the supplies and grinned until he was met with the large clang of a door opening from nearby. His antennae rose, and he swiveled towards the doors; one of the windows were now lighted and he could make out the outline of a shadow.

"They were toying with me!" he screamed and stuffed the supplies into his PAK. Another wave of dizziness graced him as he nearly stumbled to his knees. His head was beginning to swim dangerously, and his legs felt loose and almost nonexistent. Zim groaned; he noticed he was no longer bleeding a light pink, but now a dark magenta. His blood reserves were dwindling, and his PAK was obviously not doing its job.

He huffed and clawed his way under the cot; the door opened immediately after and a person wearing what Zim perceived to be medical attire walked in.

"It's gone." The person mumbled, "And it left a mess." He leaned down and swiped dangerously close to Zim's hidden body, where a puddle of fresh blood lay.

Zim shuddered as he regarded the deirkenization in the person's voice. Zim wasn't Zim to this human. He wasn't even a sentient being. He was a thing. This caused a final shudder to travel down his spine. Suddenly his PAK switched back to online mode and splayed his PAK-legs before he could even stop the command. His cover was blown.

"Stupid infernal-!" He yelled as the cot tumbled back down at his feet, having already flown into the medical technician's torso. The tech stared at the Irken dazedly before realizing who he was.

"Hey!" he barked as Zim sped out of the room, the alien's own blood coating the knees and sides of the paper gown he was dressed in. The tech jumped to his feet and glared at the Irken's retreating form.

"LADYBUG. Stop both voluntary lower extremity muscle movements, send control to DAQ 558." He said.

At first Zim regarded the human's words with confusion, until he ended up face first into the floor at full force. He moaned in pain, and blood seeped from a new wound on his forehead. He put a palm to his skin and hissed.

"What have you done?" he demanded, staring up at the large form above him.

"Well, LADYBUG, it seems we lowly humans have found a way to manipulate your little backpack." The man smirked. The shadows that danced over his body caused him to look more menacing. Zim regarded the wristwatch device on his arm and let out a yelp when he realized that the world had gone dark again.

"You've lost control, little bug." He whispered to the Irken.

Zim shivered, he swore he could feel a hint of a tear coming, but he pushed back the fear and narrowed his eyes.

"I'm still in control, human. You and your little device couldn't possibly overcome an Irken invader's PAK for long. The PAK will reject you after ten minutes and I will regain it as its rightful host. And when I do, I will personally take those scalpels that you and your grubby hands so easily carved into my flesh with and dig out every single last one of your blood cells." He growled threateningly before falling catatonic.

A weak and strangled cry was all he could mutter out as a deep pain radiated throughout his entire system. It was as if someone had spilled poop cola all over his insides and was frying him from within.

"LADYBUG-."

"QUIT calling me that! I am Zim! I am not a pathetic little earth insect and if you try to direct me as such once more I will-!" he was cut off by another zap.

"As I was saying. You fail to realize that you really are just a pathetic insect. All your little- what did you call it?- pack does is keep you alive so that we can keep testing on you and ripping you apart bit by bit. LADYBUG," he spat the word, "you can't fly away this time."

The zap convulsed throughout Zim's body up until the human's final word had ended. Zim's lip quivered with both mental and physical pain and he collapsed upon losing the control of his upper extremities as well. His glare faltered into a pained expression as it dawned on him that this might really be the end.

"Don't look so sad, little LADYBUG, I'm sure that you will be very valuable one day." He bent down to Zim's level and lifted the Irken's face to meet his. Zim was still blind, but he could feel the shameless smirk that was most definitely painted on his captor. "Like those big pink eyes. Might make a beautiful centerpiece." He rubbed his thumb underneath Zim's clasped eyes, his other fingers stroking the side of his cheek and head.

The fingers left Zim's eyes and traveled to his collarbones that poked through the thin material of the paper gown. He was repulsed by the feeling of bare human fingers, but couldn't drown out his next words, "I bet those strong Irken bones would make a good set of tableware. Just a little sanding," he jabbed a rough couple of knuckles into Zim's windpipe and ground them along, "and of course we gotta remove them first."

Zim was nearly closing his eyes with the glare that had settled on his face. He began to realize that the fear and sadness of being captured was steadily being taken over with the anger and contempt from being toyed with.

The man didn't stop, though he did chuckle at the Irken's blind glare. At this tiny little thing that thought it had any inch of control over the situation. His hand braced the pit of Zim's torso and the Irken immediately screamed in protest.

"DON'T TOUCH ME YOU FILTHY PIG-GREASE! I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU. I WILL WRAP YOUR INTESTINES AROUND YOUR BRAIN UNTIL IT HEMORRAGHES." Zim yelled, trying his absolute damnedest to regain control of his body.

The medical tech grinned, "Funny how long you've stayed on this planet and you still have no idea how human anatomy or physiology works."

"I don't need to learn. I could care less what type of things make you humans up. It was only valuable when I needed to blend in. Other than that, in my mind's eyes; I CAN, and I WILL make your brain hemorrhage by wrapping your small intestine around that miniature, stupid SMELLY brain of yours." Zim snarled.

"I wonder," the tech spoke, ignoring Zim's furious outcry completely, "if your insides taste any different from the insides of say a deer."

Zim did not take very kindly to the thought of a biopsy. However, this man possessed a certain type of animalistic, primal, vagulely caveman affect that made his green skin crawl.

The Irken's mind flashed to a certain black-haired bi-spectacled boy as he compared the two motives of education and hunger. On one hand they were one in the same. Education was one hell of a stimulant; it drove the kid to such lengths to get Zim on a table. This hunger, he refocused his glare onto the man in front of him.

He was all bulging neck veins, dirty collar, and sticky beard. His grin was not unlike a lion over top of a helpless gazzelle. This hunger, Zim recognized as the type that had only one reason to do what his type did; he killed, he binged, and he lived only for himself.

As Zim's mind went in rollercoaster loops, he almost didn't realize that his eyes were functional again. Blinking owlishly as the man continued on a rant not even important enough to document, Zim sprung into action.

ADMINZIM907796 BACK ONLINE. INITIALIZING CONTROL OVER PAK.

Zim swung his hips up and watched as the man's face disappeared behind his black pants and boots. He kept going until the shot was inline, and before the man could guess what was happening, Zim ricocheted forward. His heels dug into the eyes of the man as his toes put out enough force to topple the tech over. Zim wasted no time after the human was on the floor. He hopped off his head and bolted down the hallway.

His eyes slipped open. The disgusting crust that built in the corners after a heavy sleep kept him from further peeking beyond his lashes. For several seconds he wondered if maybe he should just ignore the screaming and fall back into peace.

That was until he realized just how grating on the ears the screaming was. His eyes reopened, slightly more this time as he took in the tone, the shrill, and the crack in the scream. It was as if the horrid sounds were being broken in half. He could unfortunately place the scream into a person, or rather a being.

Dib was now wide awake as he padded over to the door of his room, the room he only took posession of if only to simulate a sense of control. The screaming tensed and faded and he found himself yearning for something that familiar again. The times when he regarded his alien neighbor menace with anything but animosity were rare and mainly confined to being in this place, but his gut twisted at the thought of someone having captured Zim.

He pouted.

"I wanted to do it." he slumped against the simple wooden chair that pressed tightly against the desk. The heel of his boot tapped and banged against the floor of his room. The echoes reminded him of his first night and he caught his fingers splintering agonizingly against the wood of the chair.

Dib cried out, there were splinters under his nails and he wanted nothing more than to shout the entire urban dictionary but vaguely remembered the last time he showed anger.

 _'Curse. Go ahead, do it. It's painful. And maybe get the nurse's attention and beat her to death with the leg off that horrible broken chair.'_

The teenager sighed deeply and replied audibly as usual, "Okay. I acknowledge you're back Headvoice, but I wonder why. You see me trying to avoid you, yet you place very deliberate obstacles in my way." he continued as he sat on his bed and faced the wooden chair with a fixed focus, "as for your second request. Somehow I do not think murder will help me out of here, both figuratively and literally. Though I will take you up on calling the nurse."

Dib stretched out his arm down to the finger and regarded a figure that wasn't there, "Thanks, by the way."

 _'Foolish boy. Do you honestly believe that psychobabble bullshit about being nice to your voices makes them less aggressive?'_

Dib grinned thoughtfully. "Ah. Someone's tapping into my memory of that psychology text book. If you must know, Headvoice, I act kindly with you for the sole purpose of studying you."

 _A sharp jut of a laugh. 'Study me? Don't you have another test subject that is much more worthy of your attention.'_

"With Zim absent I don't have much material to study on. I've mulled over medical documents, read literature, and accessed files from the Armada for so long I'm surprised the whole race hasn't up and retreated. " Dib clutched the doorknob to his room and let loose a tiny smirk. "You, on the other hand, are present and more than willing to give me what I want. Which is, if you're wondering, something to study and figure out the innerworkings of."

 _'I'm not a fucking car. You aren't a mechanic. I am not a sentient diety, not yet at least. You can only study one thing for several hours before it sinks in that it doesn't do anything interesting.'_

"That's awfully self-depreciative of yourself. Personally, I think you're plenty interesting. You're literally the closest thing I have to a roommate." Dib smiled to a phantom before pushing the knob to the side and slipping out into the hallway.

The boy noticed how dim the hallway was and wondered briefly why his mind immediately flicked to a place where a clock should be. It did not take him long to remember that this facility did not have any clocks. In fact, even the staff didn't wear digital wristbands, or glance over phones, nor click at pocket watches.

Dib huffed, pocket watches were iconic. He wondered if maybe he could bring back the use, like a trend.

He traversed down the hall as he begin to recollect useless fragments of a memory that meant nothing to him. The latest trend was wearing bell bottoms and he smiled in a twisted way as he imagined two legs chopped off. He might have seen that somewhere. He glared inwardly. Useless. Nothing. No help to just recall fashions or mindless bodily multilation.

It was only when Dib met the double doors did he realize he missed the nurse's station about five halls down. His brown fingers reached forward with caution, he figured that maybe the other nurses on the adjacent ward were up to pulling splinters out from under his fingernails. Both hands pushed out and whispers of a vicious voice echoed into clarity.

 _'You stupid pest. You blunted screw. This is a dream.'_

Dib hissed, a feeling of cold and a tickle at his neck brought him to listen, "The pain seems real enough."

 _'Pain doesn't constitute... correlate... with the fact of whether one dreams or is awake. This is not like the dreams you've had before. With him here now you aren't gonna be novacained much longer. The project continues, Feeb. Wake up.'_

The door continued to swing forward and he started to beckon towards the call of a lighter blue. This blue was nice. It wasn't the fluorescent blue that made his skin buzz with the thirst for sunlight and real oxygen. Not this bottled up brand of air that only came in short breaths.

He breathed and breathed and breathed as the sun warmed up his features. Brought what was once turned pale and vitamin deficient back into a healthy glow of brown and flushed redish cheeks. He was riding his bike in the summer, like they used to do as kids. The breeze was so intense that he could feel the wind whipping his scythe along to its whim.

The blue, the peaceful blue. The sky as he never remembered it being. The sky, his sky, was angry and red and cursed its inhabitants with a karma well-deserved. But this sky, not his sky, it felt good, even as he was trapped under his bike. His head was bleeding. He could feel it. His breath hitched as he felt the sting of needle. He giggled at the thought of God being a seamstress. The novacaine was wearing, wearing thin.

Suddenly he was lifted. Tiny ants, god how many of them, were carrying him. They took him nowhere. They took him everywhere as they dug their pinchers into his spine suddenly, and it was then they were no longer ants. They were scorpions and he felt the panic bubble so fast he screamed.

He slipped and they worked fast. They worked fast as their panicked fingers and eager studies drove them.

The blue expanded so much that he nearly felt enveloped. His screaming stopped, abruptly, almost as soon as it started.

The pinches of a million scorpions came back. There wasn't any novacaine left, only his imagination. The pain was distant.

There was a machine in him now. He was a machine now. Unnatural. Oh god it hated him, he hated himself. He fought and fought and after the ten slipped from the hand he so feverioushly held onto, he counted it with greed.

Oh yes, to live to live in this body with these new thoughts and these new objectives.

To be an Admin. To be in control. Exhilarating.

He glared up at the sky. It was too blue. Much too cheerful. Too peaceful. Did he even remember the meaning of the word? Perhaps not.

But he turned the sky. He turned it into a red masterpiece. His sky. The sky. The tortured mistress who bled so easily to punish her citizens. But he drank the blood just as easily. Red red red.

Hey what was this gun doing here?


End file.
